Hate is spelled LOVE
by MoreThanTonight
Summary: Day 3 for Kurtbastian week; AU/Crossover. This is an AU story where Sebastian is a famous pop-star and Kurt is his manager.


I hate Sebastian Smythe.

I hate his smarmy little smiles that make girls swoon everywhere in the world.

I hate his freaking hair that tries to defy gravity.

I hate that he hasn't even heard of colour combination, but the magazines soak it up and praise him for his "bold colour choices". It's called being tasteless.

I hate that he's famous.

I hate the way he carries himself, as though he could get anyone on the planet.

I hate that he's talented and sings stupid pop songs about how much he loves alcohol.

I hate that he's my boss.

But most of all, I hate myself for sleeping with him yesterday.

Of all the gay men in Los Angles, I just had to get drunk enough to tell Sebastian Smythe how much I hate him and somehow that landed me in bed with him. And now I have to meet him for his morning briefing. Fuck. My. Life.

Sebastian walks into my office with a cup of steaming coffee and runs his hand through his newly washed hair. Of course he didn't have to put a can of products in that stupid hair to make it look good. The papers just eat it up anyway.

"This is not going to be awkward is it?" he asked in that obnoxious deep voice that I hate. It sounds like claws against a chalkboard and I can't understand why people even find that sexy.

"I don't know what you are talking about," I reply in a flat voice, keeping my eyes fixed on the paper with graphs that showed how well Sebastian's records were selling. His freaking record sales went up after it became publicly known that had a one night affair with the Prince of England during his Europe tour.

"Hummel, last night-"

"-Was a mistake" I end the sentence for him without looking up from the sheets of paper.

It becomes obvious I'm trying to avoid looking at him and these graphs can't be _that_ interesting, so I force myself to look up. Sebastian's face was contorted in an ugly smirk. Fucking perfect.

"Okay, so your record sales have gone up with 27 percent the last week which is really good, but you have to stop the rumours about yourself. Taylor Lautner, Alex Pettyfer and even Darren Criss is alright, but the Prince of England, Smythe? That's way too much. He's married to a woman!"

"Who said they were rumours? They are all facts."

"Well, you either keep it in your pants or keep it away from the media because sooner of later they are going to label you – and mind you, you deserve it – the slut of Hollywood and then were will we be?" I snap.

"Hey, you are my manager," Sebastian shrugs. "You take care of my PR."

I hate that he is right. I hate that it is my job to control and kill the rumours and truths of his plentiful sex-life. I hate that it's my job to pay his lesser conquests to silence. I hate that his sex-life is any of my business.

"Well, your PR is harder to control than the crisis in the Middle-East," I sigh, refusing to let him have the last word.

"Having a bad day, Hummel?" he asks with a taunting smile and I just know that he is trying to get on my nerves.

"Oh you know, I just had a terrible night."

That seems to shut him up momentarily. He licks his lips slowly and I hate that he looks as though he thinks he owns the world. I wish I could wipe away that smirk permanently, preferably with water and soap. A lot of soap.

"Are we done here?" he asks, suddenly looking bored.

"Yes. Just remember that a car will pick you up at 5. 30 pm for that record signing we have scheduled this evening."

"Yeah, about that.." he says with a sheepish smile and I just know that his next words will complicate my day even more. Undoubtedly he has another fuck fest he has to attend to or another member of a royal family to screw. "You have to reschedule that. I have a date."

The words ring in my ears like a hoard of fire alarms. Screeching, taking over every thought in my mind. A date. _A date_. Sebastian.. has a date? How did that happen? In the two years I have known him, he had never shown interest in wanting to date anyone at all. In fact, he always claimed that monogamy was for the weak and the ugly.

"_You_ have a date?" I ask, too shocked to keep the bafflement in my voice away.

"Yes, I do. Problem? And whatever you do, keep that away from the papers," he says in a serious voice. "So, you'll reschedule and I'll see you again tomorrow."

Before I know what's going on, Sebastian is walking out of my office and the only thing that forces me to snap out of my thoughts is the sharp sound the door makes as it slams shut.

I hate Sebastian Smythe for acting like god's gift to mankind.

I hate him for messing up my carefully laid plans.

I hate the way he smiles, and the way the world stops for a second as those white teeth shine in the light.

I hate the way my heart beats a little faster whenever he's around.

I hate that I truly feel alive only when I'm with him.

I hate how the vein on his forehead makes me think of sinful things.

I hate the way he licks his lips slowly when he is thinking about something, making him feel compassionate and caring, even if it is just for a second.

I hate the way his eyes dance with mirth when he laughs.

I hate every single freckle on his body, and there are 54 in total.

I hate how last night was the best night of my existence.

I hate that I love him.

But most of all, I hate that he'll never know how much I love him.


End file.
